Futility

I expect that one day I’ll see purpose in my daily grind. I catch glimpses of it now and then. A spark here. A bond there. Every day feels increasingly futile, though. 

Boss lady walks in my room between classes and looks down on me, puzzled at the sketch in progress. 

-Sisyphus, I tell her.

-Who?

-Me, I say to myself as I explain the hell of fruitless labor.

She shakes her head in quiet disgust, threatens an informal evaluation, and walks off.

Inspiration abounds.

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Author: uncaged

When Picasso painted a blue Seated Woman in a Chair, he was unconsciously thinking of me.

5 thoughts on “Futility”

  1. I can see her side and yours too. Based on what you’ve written over time, on the pages you’ve made know to us WP folk, I’d bet you are a really good teacher. We need really good teachers. But then again, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want too. Ultimately it’s your call, and you should do the thing you want to do.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I got that masters degree in counseling, so I’ve got a plan. I just have to get a job. There are good sides to teaching, really good sides when you feel like you are making a difference. But I don’t feel like I am anymore. It’s time to move on. Pushing to the end isn’t easy, though, but it’s necessary.

      Thanks for the encouragement. It’s much appreciated.

      Like

  2. You make me feel the need to contact my old teachers and let them know they didn’t waste their time, though I haven’t any proof to show them there was any worth to it.

    ;

    I saw one of them,
    Her, walking down the school steps within a gaggle of other plain dressed sexagenarians, decompressing whatever rote seminar they had had drilled into them.
    She, who slapped me cross the chest when I told her I was attending the local community college instead of branching out to university, who enforced the rigors of strong research.

    But I hadn’t the courage to tell her she spurred me down this futile literary path.

    So don’t underestimate the power of a good teacher,
    even if you never reap what you sow.

    Like

    1. Contact them. Sometimes…no…often, we teachers feel there’s no worth in what we do. The job is hard and daily discouraging. Occasionally I find a letter in my box from a student thanking me and imploring me to keep doing what I do, and it helps me move forward. Oddly, the quiet kids I rarely interact with are the ones who write the letters. Other than their encouragment, mostly there is little fuel to keep the fire burning for long.
      I tried to find one of greatest influences, but I likely waited too long. She’s probably not alive anymore, and I sorely regret never having told her how much she did for me.

      Like

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